“I forgot how tiring roller skating can be.” I contrived a small smile.
“Do you want to sit down?”
I suddenly felt guilty. Was I being a spoil sport?
“Yeah, maybe,” I said softly. Micah rounded one of the corners and brought us to a side exit. I saw Jennifer leaning over the food-stand counter with a few of her anime friends. I was glad to see she had other friends to hang out with, other than just Rachel and me.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Micah asked. I looked at the limited menu. Soda, hotdogs and deep-fried pickles seemed to be the main highlight.
“A soda?”
“Got it.” Micah pulled his wallet from his pocket. He skated off to the cashier. Jennifer grinned at him and started a conversation I couldn’t hear. I turned my gaze back to the rink, to Rachel and David holding hands and leaning against each other. I wished, for Micah’s sake, I could be like her—happy, normal again. As Micah came back to sit beside me, he gave me the drink. I took a sip, then put it down on the bench beside me. Micah leaned back.
“Sometimes I feel like you deserve someone better,” I blurted. The thought had escaped my lips before I had the chance to reconsider it. Micah narrowed his brow. My gaze locked with his. You know you do. You know you don’t want this. You know you don’t want me. Not like this.
Micah shook his head.
“Hardly. What, you think you’re so hard to deal with?” Micah sat up straight.
“I am hard to deal with.”
“Nooooot really… Where is this even coming from?”
“I just don’t think you should have to be bogged down by someone like me,” I confessed. Rachel and David skated by us again, the perfect image of how we should have been.
“Someone...like...you?” He slid a hand through his hair. “Look, Charlie. I’m not following. I’ve been trying to be there for you as much as I can. I totally understand why things have been hard. I don’t blame you. I just really don’t…understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Lately, I just feel like I need some time to sort through my thoughts. Through my life. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
He was quiet. I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me.
“Are you trying to say that you don’t want to be with me anymore?”
“No…” I glanced down at my hands. It wasn’t what I was trying say, was it?
“Then what is it?” he demanded. “Tell me the truth, Charlie. What do you want?”
I felt tears come to life. The one thing I wanted most, I could never have. The one thing that I wanted always was gone forever.
“I…I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know.”
Micah cleared his throat. He looked away, out over the skating rink as he began to thrum his fingers against the bench.
“I feel so out of place. Like I just don’t belong. You deserve someone who fits.”
“You’re not a fucking puzzle piece,” he snapped. My eyes peered up at him from underneath my eyelashes. Micah’s jaw was tight. “You’re not as lost as you might feel, Charlie. But if you insist on drowning in your own grief, and pushing away any help offered to you…” He turned, lifting his foot for better access to his skates. He began to undo the laces. Micah completely avoided looking at me.
I had done this. I deserved his anger. I fought the urge to touch his arm. I slipped my hands underneath my legs. I saw his eyes flicker, noticing my movement.
“Sounds like you just want to be left alone,” he added as he pulled his foot free. He began on the other skate, working quickly.
“I’m…just confused.”
“Yeah. I guess you are,” he replied. His jaw tightened again. “You know where to find me when you figure out what you want.”
“Micah…” I sighed. I could only watch as he slipped his sneakers on. I sat frozen, unsure if I should stop him or let him go. He lifted his gaze back to me expectantly, as if he were waiting for me to say something.
But as he stood, I remained silent. I didn’t know what to do. Micah turned without a word and went to the skate-return desk. I tried to tug my own skates off, but wasn’t quick enough. He slipped out the door into the wintery night.
One of the pink paper hearts fell from the ceiling, landing beside me. I was struck with the reminder of the story from that night at youth group…all the many pieces of our hearts that we give away so freely. Half of my heart was gone already. And I knew as I sat there silently, Micah would always have the rest.
HE AVOIDED ME.
For several days. It felt like weeks. When I managed to get onto the bus one morning, Micah was sitting with some of the guys. At first, it had taken me by surprise, but with each passing day, I automatically walked directly to the empty seat left for me. I didn’t dare look at Micah. I didn’t want to. I was too afraid of seeing the hurt in his eyes.
English class and lunches were even worse. When Micah sat at our table, he kept his conversations short and directed to everyone but me. Other days, he’d sit at another table.
“Are you going to make up with him?” Jennifer asked me one morning as I tugged my books out of my locker.
Micah walked by us. He didn’t bother to look up.
“I don’t even know how,” I replied as I slammed the top locker closed. Jennifer winced at the sound and leaned her back against the metal.
“Why don’t you just say, ‘Micah, I want to talk to you.’ That seems to be a step.”
“It’s not that easy.” I sighed.
“Why not? It’s not that hard.”
“I just don’t fit in anymore. I don’t fit the mold.”
“The mold?” I watched Jennifer’s face fill with confusion. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I just… I look around and see everyone focusing on stupid stuff. Meanwhile, no one understands what it’s like to go home and…feel a house so empty. To hear my mother crying from her bedroom late at night. No one understands this constant pain. It’s hard to laugh. It’s hard to not feel guilty about it.”
Jennifer appeared to be pondering my words.
“I can’t even pretend to understand,” she finally said, shaking her head. “I can’t say that everything is going to be all right, because I have no idea.” She adjusted her backpack strap on her shoulder. “But I do know that Micah really loves you, Charlie. He’s been there for you since the beginning.”
“He deserves someone who isn’t so unhappy. He deserves the happier version of me. But I can’t be that girl anymore. That girl only existed in a world where my family was whole. He deserves a girl who can appreciate his music and not cry over stupid, silly lyrics. He deserves someone who…doesn’t want to run away from the world.”
“It’s highly unfair of you to determine what you think Micah wants and deserves. Micah is a grown guy and can decide that for himself. Clearly, if he wanted someone else, he would have been a dickhead and dumped you as soon as the funeral was over.”
I stared at her. She was right. I couldn’t make choices for Micah; only he could do that.
“I just want him to be happy,” I whispered. I glanced down as I felt a fresh batch of tears spring to life. Happiness. “I want him to have the happiness he deserves.”
“What makes you think you aren’t that happiness, Charlie?” Jennifer asked as she braced her hands on either side of my shoulders. “You are an amazing person, Charlie. Your dad dying doesn’t take away from that. None of us think of you differently. A lot of us feel bad because we want to help you. We want to see you smile. But we know it’ll take time. And that’s okay. You aren’t bringing us down or anything.”
A tear rolled down my cheek.
“Micah loves you, with or without your grief. Give him a chance. He’s trying. We’re all trying. And we know that most of all, you’re trying.”
I nodded slowly and wiped the tear from my face. Suddenly, the bell rang.
“Come on, let’s get to class before we get written up.”
With each step toward Mrs. Tenner’s English class, I prayed silently to my dad, hoping everything would work out. Jennifer gave me a thumbs-up as I paused at the door.
“You got this. I’ll see you at lunch!” she said.
“See ya.”
I was grateful Mrs. Tenner didn’t write me down as late. Instead, as I entered the classroom, she gave me a sympathetic glance. I weaved through the backpacks in the aisle and took my seat. I felt eyes on my back as I sat, and decided not to turn to see if it was Micah. I was too afraid that I’d be disappointed.
“Good morning, class. Today is our field trip!” Mrs. Tenner stood in front of the classroom.
Field Trip? I didn’t remember any mention of a—oh, wait!
“We’ll be walking down to the Grand Lakes National Historical Society today. There’s a great exhibit I thought all of you would enjoy.”
I grimaced. I didn’t want to walk in the snow. I really didn’t want to walk alone. I glanced over my shoulder, taking in Micah’s solemn blank stare. I couldn’t believe I had completely forgotten about the field trip. I recalled having to collect signatures from not only my mom, but from the teachers whose classes I’d be missing.
“If anyone needs to grab anything, be sure to go collect it now!”
I raised my hand nervously. Mrs. Tenner gestured at me, allowing me to speak.
“I forgot my coat. Can I go get it?” I asked apologetically.
“Sure, Caroline. Go ahead.”
“Can I go too, Mrs. Tenner?” Micah’s voice startled me as I snatched my backpack.
“Go on, Micah,” she replied. “Meet us out near the soda machines, by the gym.”
I walked out into the hallway, quickly tossed my now un-needed books back into my locker and took my jacket from the bottom compartment. As I tugged it on, I glanced in Micah’s direction. His locker wasn’t far from mine. He grabbed his jacket and headed back down the hallway, where the rest of the class was waiting.
So much for trying to talk to me. I shut the door of my locker with a sigh and started to walk toward the meeting place. By the time I got there, Mrs. Tenner was doing a headcount.
“Great, Caroline is back. We’re all here. Let’s go!”
She guided us out to the main sidewalk. Micah walked ahead of me.
“So, are you and Micah fighting?” Samantha asked from behind me. “I can totally sense something going on.”
“It’s none of your business.” I shoved my hands into my pockets, doing what I could to keep them warm. Samantha peered at Micah with a smirk as she nudged me.
“Do you think he can hear us?”
I shrugged and tried my best to ignore her. She was the last person I wanted to talk to.
“That’s kinda shitty, Micah. Her dad just died,” Samantha called out to him. “I thought you had more class than that. You shouldn’t dump a girl when she’s going through a shit-show!”
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” he said, turning to glare at her. His dark gaze slid to me for a brief moment before he turned to look ahead again. Great.
“Wow.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “You’re a dickhead.”
“Why don’t you just shut your fucking mouth, okay?” Micah stopped walking. “You don’t know anything about Charlie and me.”
“Thank God.” She snickered. “Trust me, I don’t want to know.” Samantha curled her lip. “But I do know that it’s pretty fucked up for you to be ignoring her after everything. Unless you’ve had enough of her.” She glanced at me. “Or…oooh! Plot twist! Did Charlie break up with you, Micah?”
“We didn’t break up,” Micah growled.
I suppose I should have taken his words with some reassurance. We weren’t through with each other.
“Someone’s a little grouchy today!” Samantha mocked a sad face and then laughed with her friends as she gazed back at me. “Sorry, Charlie…your bad luck with the men in your life might not be quite over yet.”
I had enough. I couldn’t bear to listen to her anymore. I hated her. I pushed past her and Micah, doing what I could to distance myself from them and their stupid, unfeeling conversation. Some people just don’t understand. Some never will.
“Look what you did now, Micah,” Samantha taunted him. “Geesh, you’re so rude.”
“Shut up,” I heard him snap. In my mind, I could see his wrinkled brow. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and pressed on.
THE GRAND LAKES NATIONAL HISTORICAL Society was hosting an exhibit on the Civil War era, so the entire antique home was decorated to match the living style of that time. In the corner of the main room on the first floor, several dresses were displayed on mannequins. I was amazed by the detail of embroidery on the sleeves of the gowns, and the great lengths of fabric that made up the skirts. Some of them appeared to be made of simple cotton, with delicate fragments of lace on the bodices. All of which ranged in colors of black, grey, white. There was one gown in particular made with some of the most beautiful lace I had ever seen. Under a glass case, delicate gloves were laid out beside a small leather bible.
The formal evening suits and military uniforms for both the confederate and union armies were placed in another corner. The clothes reminded me of Gone with the Wind. Only, everything was real. I was struck with the memory of going to the Smithsonian Museum in Washington D.C. where I saw Abraham Lincoln’s top hat and suit in a glass display. Different, and yet kind of the same.
We were led into each room, where the tour guide explained what it was like to live in Grand Lakes at the time, and showed us photographs of some of the citizens. It was interesting to see how the town had developed over the years. It was hard to imagine wagons and horses in the roads, compared to today’s cars and trucks. Every once in a great while, I’d peek at Micah, who seemed engrossed in the tour guide’s explanation of the exhibits.
Mrs. Tenner led us into another room that was set up to look as though the family were hosting a funeral. The curtains on the windows were black, and there was a wooden coffin replica sitting on the main table in the room. The tour guide explained how families traditionally hosted funerals in their homes.
I couldn’t help but wonder, would this be how my family’s living room would have looked if we had lived in the past? Would my dad have really rested there for days until we could bury him? The tour guide also explained the benefits of cold basements for families who had lost a loved one. The idea sent a shiver down my spine. How did they sleep at night knowing there was a dead body in the basement?
The room seemingly became warmer. I couldn’t stop remembering my dad, laying on a gurney in the hospital. The strange realization that he was no longer breathing. I unzipped my jacket; there were too many people around me. My heart began to pound as I tried to focus on anything but my thoughts. The distant memory of my mom knocking on Josh’s door. The many forlorn faces at the funeral. A droplet of sweat rolled down my temple. It didn’t help the sunlight from outside was blocked by thick, black curtains. And the tour guide was still talking about dead bodies. Everything began to spin while I desperately sought a place to brace myself. I looked around, until my gaze locked onto the EXIT sign above a door.
I tried my best to discreetly leave; the last thing I wanted was Mrs. Tenner to see me and worry. I was relieved to find the next room was larger, with glass case exhibits containing different selection of dishes and silverware. This, at least, appeared safe. I could breathe again.
I was startled to feel someone’s hand on my elbow in the doorway. Turning quickly, I found Micah staring back at me.
“You all right?”
“Fine,” I said softly, tugging my arm free from his grasp. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
&
nbsp; “I saw you leave. I just wanted to check on you. I figured that it was—”
“Yeah,” I interrupted him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He looked at me, clearly knowing how I truly felt about the room behind us. I knew he understood why I had to leave. It was overwhelming. And I knew he cared too much to ignore me here, now.
“Do you mind if I join you?” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Are you sure you want to?” I challenged. I wanted to say more smartass things, but nothing seemed to roll off my tongue naturally. He hadn’t been interested in speaking to me for several days. So why now?
When Micah didn’t answer, I walked ahead of him to one of the displays. I came to pause in front of a case exhibiting a selection of wrought iron pots and pans. The majority of them appeared rusted and warped. One of the plates nearby was broken into several pieces.
“I’m sorry,” Micah said softly. I kept my gaze on the objects in the encasement. I blinked back a few tears and bit down on the inside of my cheek. I needed to remain calm and not cry. “I’m sorry that I walked away from you the other night. I shouldn’t have done that,” he continued.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, not trusting my voice. “It’s whatever.” It wasn’t whatever. Not for either of us.
“It’s not fine. I made a mistake.”
“You’re human.” I shrugged.
“That’s not a good enough excuse.” Micah reached to touch my fingers. I stared at his hand as his fingers grazed over my skin. They were so warm.
“I’m sorry too,” I said finally. “I’m sorry I said those things. I just…”
“It’s been a confusing time. I get it. I should have understood that too.”
“I just want to be good enough for you. I-I feel so bad that this is who I am now. I feel like I’ll always be this way. I’ll always be so unhappy. I don’t want you to feel stuck with me. Who wants to be around someone who is always so sad?”
“I love you no matter what, Charlie,” Micah said, as he turned me to face him. A single tear rolled down my cheek. So much for me holding it together. His fingers brushed it away as he shook his head.
The Songs We Remember: A Young Adult Romance (The Songs in Our Hearts Book 2) Page 13